


Empty Seats

by wylanhendriks



Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anniversary, I can't believe I actually made some research on poisons for that thing, Jealousy, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Murder, Murder-Suicide, Oliver is very yandere, Poisoning, Why do I write things that will make me upset, i love them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:28:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8038609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylanhendriks/pseuds/wylanhendriks
Summary: Oliver decides that if he cannot live without the love of his life, neither can the love of his life.





	Empty Seats

**Author's Note:**

> Oliver=2p England  
> Louis=2p France
> 
> Also trigger warning for suicide. And obviously murder.

 

> **_His veins were dark with a vivid belladonna tincture, the essence of jealousy._ **

**_Charlotte Brontë_ **

 

"Are you okay, my blueberry pie?" The Brit asked with a fake curiosity in his voice. It was too late to regret the decision he made. The Frenchman closed his eyes slowly, sighed deeply and replied. 

"You know how I hate you calling me pet names." That grumpy and raspy voice, how Oliver loved and despised it at the same time. He loved it because it was the voice of the man he loved but each word he spoke showed how his love was never going to be returned. 

"I'm sorry, dear!" He didn't even care about what the other man had just said and Louis didn't even try to argue. He was feeling a bit nervous and he was ready to give up his whole plan and go back to being his old self. He resisted that urge. Turning his attention back to the world that surrounded him, he recognized the blue eyes focused on him, watching his every movement carefully. 

"Is there something on my face, why are you looking at?" 

"Well, can't I look at my boyfriend's face?" Oliver asked with a lovely smile plastered on his face. In fact all he tried to do was to memorize that face, that man. How celestial his facial features were, what a great contrast with his unholy personality. That was what Oliver thought at least. He was doing the right thing, people like Louis were the meanies, not those innocent dears like himself. He turned his head back to his plate, not wanting to piss the other man off.   
________ 

_**2 days ago** _

  
"Where are you my dear?" 

"At the office, where can I be at this hour?" The man on the other side of the line grumbled. 

"What a silly question, right? Silly me!" The Brit chuckled. "I just thought we could meet for lunch, I'm free today." 

"I'm not, sorry." The Frenchman mumbled. Oliver nodded even though he knew the man couldn't see him. He was always busy, wasn't he? Sure, Oliver tried his best to understand him. The job he had was a desk job, one of these grey, horrid offices Oliver always feared that he would end up working one day was Louis' workplace. These cubicles that separated each one of them from their co-workers always made Oliver uncomfortable whenever he visited Louis. These visits were rare though, Louis was very busy and sort of uncomfortable whenever Oliver tried to plant soft goodbye kisses on his partner's cheekbefore leaving. For a while, the ginger man feared he was in the closet and embarrassed of their relationship. He, then later, recognized that wasn't the case. If Louis were to be embarrassed of Oliver, it wouldn't be because they were in a homosexual relationship but rather because of Oliver's personality. He tried to take it lightly, they both were different. People were different anyway. Also didn't they complete each other like missing puzzle pieces? At least that's what Oliver thought and wanted to believe so badly. That day was no different so he wasn't going to disturb his love by dropping by. He couldn't help but feel sad, he always had lunch breaks why couldn't he see him on their anniversary? Did he really forget? No he cannot, Oliver repeated to himself. To distract himself he spent the rest of the day cooking for the night and taking a nap. 

When the other came back home tired, Oliver didn't say anything and waited for Louis to say something first. His present was ready, the food and the cake he made were ready but no, Louis was going to remember. He had to. 

He didn't though or pretended like he didn't. He changed his outfit and took a quick shower like he usually did after work then lay on the sofa to read that day's newspaper. Oliver also pretended to have stuff to do at the kitchen in order to gain time. Maybe Louis was planning a surprise and wanted some alone time? That _maybe_ kept the ginger man going. 

Louis, on the other hand, of course remembered it. Surely he would have been an awful liar if he claimed he gave any importance to anniversaries of all sorts. He didn't but he knew that his cheerful lover did. That was one of the reasons he started to mark the important dates on the calender of his smart phone. Well the only reason but Louis wouldn't admit it. He wasn't going to celebrate it though, it was all part of his massive plan. He was going to propose Oliver after four joyous years they spent together. The Frenchman had expressed his opinions on marriage by saying " _It's utter bullshit. Something silly people do as they kid themselves by play pretending." So he was sure Oliver wouldn't expect tha_ t. His thoughts on that matter didn't change, he didn't think they ever would. It was still a play pretend to him. The only change was that he started to believe he found someone worth enduring such silly societal concepts. That someone was that energetic ginger who made his every single day sort of better. His dark, hopeless life a bit more bearable. He turned his head quickly upon feeling his boyfriend's arms around his neck. Oliver murmured as he buried his head on the man's neck.   
"Dinner is ready and joyeux anniversaire, my pumpkin." Louis blinked in surprise and a smile covered his face as he heard the other's accented French. 

"I'm coming, to you too Oliver." He said, sounding as casual as possible. He wanted Oliver to believe he didn't care about the anniversary only to surprise him a few days later. Only reason why he wasn't going to propose that day was his partner's never ending Iove for celebrations. He surely deserved to celebrate two days for as long as he wished to: the day they started to date, the day the blond man proposed. Reducing it to a day would be cruel to his soon-to-be husband. No one would have believed that the Frenchman was capable of being that thoughtful, not even himself a few years ago. 

Deciding it was better not to make Oliver wait he advanced toward the kitchen and sat down at the table, across the Brit. He didn't even try to help the other man, he recognized how the other dominated the kitchen and declared it his own playground, only his. Louis didn't mind a lot, his relationship with cooking was limited with scrambling eggs or making a sandwich anyway. It just weirded him out a bit, considering how Oliver loved doing everything together all the time but was totally different when it came to the kitchen. The Frenchman soon forgot about that particular detail but Oliver didn't forget about the fact that he was forgotten, he was being forgetten. He always knew Louis wasn't the most romantic partner but he never forgot their anniversary. And for the first time in four years Oliver was mad at Louis.   
______

The blond abruptly rose and went to the window, in need of some air hopelessly. He didn't know what was making him like that. Was it the fact that he was going to try his best and propose tonight? Was it excitement? It didn't feel like it. It was more like his insides were slowly burning, inch by inch, causing him to long for endless amount of air and water.   
"What's happening, Louis?" Oliver frowned, genuinely worried for a guy that knew what was going to happen. 

"I- yes I am, don't keep asking me that." He shook his head, that movement causing his expression to look disapproving. He didn't want Oliver to worry, it would pass in a few minutes anyway. Maybe Oliver was right, maybe he was smoking way too much. Oliver got up from the table and walked towards his boyfriend with small steps. He wrapped his arms around the taller man's waist and started resting his pretty, ginger head on his back. 

"Does your throat hurt and burn and you feel like your neck is very stiff?" He asked very calmly. 

"Yes, how do you even know?" Louis asked then felt the need of adding before the other scolded him. "Don't tell me it's because of my smoking habits, I'm trying to decrease my daily consumption anyway." Then a bad cough shook his whole body. Oliver hold onto the man even tighter, fearing he would slip through his fingers like dry sand. 

"I know it's not, love." His voice sounded muffled because he buried his head way too much into the other's shirt. Then with a swift movement he grabbed the other's arm, turning him around, he half dragged Louis back to the dining table. 

"What is happening, Oliver?" That was what Louis wanted to say but the stiffness in his throat didn't allow him. Also he started to feel like his whole body was made of stone. He was also nauseous: something little, something tiny was mixing his stomach acid with a little teaspoon, some species even smaller but plenty was pulling his throat muscles closer with miniature ropes. He couldn't help but put a hand on his throat.   
"You're dying love, please don't look that troubled." Oliver said in a crystal clear voice with a serious expression. He didn't sound worried, he didn't sound sad. He sounded serious, way too serious for his usual jolly self.   
A muffled, cracking "Wh- what?" was all Louis could say.   
______ 

_**2 days ago** _

  
He was being cheated on. By Louis. The man he trusted the most. And he was going to be abandoned as well. The ginger man didn't know if it was a good thing that he was at least leaving him or worse because he didn't even care about him enough to keep him around and lie to him. He couldn't believe his eyes when he had found the tickets in his pockets, two plane tickets to Dinard. He didn't even hear of that place yet he guessed there was no way he was going there to visit his family, he knew his parents were from Paris. He was truly going to leave him. And all made sense somehow, that was why he didn't even bother to remember their anniversary and they just had dinner and sex. Was it their last dinner, last lovemaking, last anniversary, last kiss? 

"Why am I not enough for anyone else?" The Brit whispered and his voice rang through the silence. He was standing in the middle of the bathroom naked except the sheet he wrapped around himself like a blanket. Yes he knew he wasn't a divine beauty like Louis was or very clever or very 'something' in any way that would separate him from the others. Well, at least not in a good way. He had been mocked and bullied for his appearance, cry-babiness, 'girly hobbies' as his ex bullies would put it but he felt somehow loved around Louis. He wasn't emotional, he wasn't expressive but he was protective, he was honest, blunt and despite their differences he never belittled him. Sure Oliver's and Louis' inner worlds were alien to one another but this was a difference they both accepted. Not once Louis made him feel bad for being more emotionally expressive or childish. He had every reason to believe he was loved right? Why was his love leaving him all alone in London then? Why was he going back to France? _Maybe if I ripped the plane ticket apart he couldn't go away_ , he smiled at his reflection in the mirror. 

 _No silly, if he wants to go away he'll find a way. Who would stay with someone pathetic like you?_ A part of him loved to make him suffer. But he wasn't going to listen to that part. So there were two tickets. Two. Who was the lucky guy or gal? How did that person look? Was it a blond, muscular guy? A beautiful brunette?  _I wish I've dyed my hair before, maybe he wouldn't leave me for someone else._ Now all of his thoughts were filled with pure desperation, devoid of rationality. He knew Louis wouldn't stay with him just because his hair was a better colour just like he wouldn't leave him because of it. Yet he needed to consider every option to keep him around in order not to lose his mind and sanity. 

"I won't let him leave." He talked to the man in the mirror once again. He didn't have any idea how, the ones he had were too horrid to mention out loud but he would resort to them if he had to. The Brit washed his face. Hugging the sheet he wrapped around himself because now he was colder than ever, he went back to bed and hugged his sleeping lover. One of them didn't sleep that night. That one was Oliver.   
______ 

"That's a good idea. Thank you, Gillen. I'll think of a place." The man muttered with a hidden gratitude. 

"That's okay, I'm still quite surprised that you're making plans about how to propose that candy boy." The man chuckled at the other end. 

"Don't call him that. And well, surely Oliver changed me a bit but don't even think I find some beauty in marriage or anything." The Frenchman stated firmly. 

"Okay, make some plans loverboy, talk to you later!" Normally Louis would call back and ask him what the fuck he meant but he was really more excited than usual and had so many details he needed to take care of. He couldn't think of anywhere nice in the United Kingdom they could go at the end of the summer. Surely that autumn vibe was more apparent here than France but that was what Louis would love, he knew Oliver himself adored summer and the warmth. He always would complain how it's always so dark and gloomy. So it was France then. Probably St Mano. Oliver would love the beach or he hoped so. The Frenchman hoped he could find direct flights to Dinard. The most important part, choosing a ring was complete at least. The only thing he needed to was to get the plane tickets and act like he didn't remember their anniversary to surprise the man even more in a few days.   
______ 

"You're dying my love. Don't you listen to me?" Oliver looked as sulky as a kid whose candy was taken away from him. Louis couldn't even reply. What was he talking about? He sure loved Oliver but while feeling like shit, his nonsense ramblings pissed the Frenchman off. He closed his eyes, why was that happening tonight. He didn't know what was happening but it wasn't supposed to be the only night he decided to be a good boyfriend, a decent, caring man. 

"I wish you didn't cheat on me and plan to leave me on my own. Don't you know I can't live without you." The ginger man hesitated as he caressed the other's face, which was on the table because he felt it was almost impossible to stand straight and keep his head up. He didn't recognize but his limbs were already spasming just like his head and neck. "And neither can you without me." The man in pink continued. He truly sounded sad. And he was, it was painful to see his healthy love like that. He was the worst smoker with the best lungs possible yet he was going to die suffocating now. How twisted was that? He leaned down, next to his chair to bring their heads to the same level. His blue eyes looked different that night, Louis wanted to ask about it even though it was really random and irrelevant. It wasn't the only thing he wanted to say. He wanted to ask how he could think of such a thing? More importantly how could he do such a thing? Was he really killing him? Why was it so confusing? It made his head throb. Or the poison did. 

"I mean, I understand I have my flaws but you can't leave me, don't you see how much I love you? I can't live without you, I can't let you live without me either because I know if I do, you are capable of it." He closed his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears clouding his vision. For once, Oliver wanted to look strong.Without opening his eyes he continued. "Have you ever heard of belladonna? Women in England during the Victorian era would use a few drops of belladonna everyday to make their eyes look more seductive and beautiful. Even though it slowly made them blind. Like my love for you." He sighed as he opened his tearful blue eyes. His pupils were bigger and darker than usual. That was what Francis have been trying to figure before. He made an effort to say something, that slight effort only resulting in worsened convulsions that awfully pained him. He couldn't even scream even though he wanted to.

"Deadly nightshade, belladonna, beautiful woman. Whatever you call it, it doesn't matter. What we don't do for love!" Oliver burst out laughing, not knowing why. He just couldn't stop it, he knew if he did he would start crying. Louis saw the man whom he was going to call his husband soon laughing manically, the ineffable pain in his limbs and throat and every muscle drove him insane. What he did to deserve it, he had no clue. 

"Okay, okay sorry, love! Don't worry it's not your poison by the way. I would never use such a well known thing for my love. It's a shame you're going to die, you know." Oliver seemed quite carried away and out of touch with the environment he was in and the reality of the situation. "Don't worry I shall follow you." He tried to shush the other. "Be steady, love! In heaven no one will separate us and we both will get there don't worry." He let out a small chuckle. "I mean you've not been a saint but you're a great man deep inside. I know it and I forgive you for cheating on me, you're paying the price already so heaven awaits us." He smiled at the other man whose convulsions were on a crazy level now, causing his limbs to be at angles that are impossible to normally be. Oliver was deeply disturbed by the voices his lover had been making in agony, he pinched the bridge of his nose nervously and tried to find a solution.

Then he quickly walked towards the couch, got a pillow and came back to his lover's side, who was on the floor desperately moving and shaking since he had no one holding the chair now, and tried to steady him. As he held his shoulders he whispered with a smile on his face. "I shouldn't do that, you don't deserve to be released from pain considering what you've done but I can't stand seeing you like that." He sighed and brought the pillow to the other man's face and pushed it with all the power he had to keep the other's shaking body still. In less than a minute, already choking man gave his last painful breath. His face and neck were red because of the poison, it was so unlike him that it made Oliver grin before he planted one last kiss on the other's lips. He didn't care about the poison being smeared on his lips, he was going to kill himself too anyway. He made his only love a promise after all.

Oliver took a long, shaky breath as he started to feel the recognization set. He killed a man. He killed the man he was deeply in love with. He killed that man in cold blood. _Oliver Kirkland, 24, killed his unfaithful partner Louis Bonnefoy, 28, in cold blood after a jealousy fit._ That would be the only explanation on the newspaper tomorrow if they were to find the body. How long would it take for them to find, he didn't know. To distract himself, to hinder the pain from setting in, he walked slowly and gracefully, the action itself created a great contrast with the beating of his weary heart and the tremor in his shaky, sweaty hands. 

He looked for a particular CD among the unorganized pile of classical music CDs on the shelf. All of them belonged to Louis and he would decide to play one of them once in a while. Oliver never liked his taste in music to be honest. Composers or pieces the other man loved always looked gruesome to the cheerful man. How could he have guessed he would be looking for one of the CDs he loved the least without Louis asking for it. With his shaky hands, he grabbed the CD upon catching a glimpse of it. Like it was a moving thing, he catched it in a rush, held it close to his chest like it was Louis himself. It wasn't, his dead body was getting with each passing moment. He finally opened the case and took the CD out, placed it on the CD player and with his shaky fingers he pressed the fast forward button, the song was at the end. He knew it. After a while, hoping he didn't miss the right place he pressed play. In a minute, the song he wanted to play in the first place started: _the Funeral March_. Wasn't it a funeral? Oliver wanted to giggle, would Louis be proud that he remembered the song, thought it would fit in their situation and found the CD. He would, right? Not finding the melody as sad as he did before, he started dancing in the room. He always loved dancing but this time, it was a terrifying sight for any person unfortunate enough to see it. There was a blond weary man on the floor with his torso arched backwards and his limbs at unbelievable angles. And there was an energetic ginger man with his baby pink sweater, white trousers and shirt dancing around the dead man. It was the proof that Oliver lost his mind and all of his remaining sanity. He wasn't a murderer anymore, he was a man who didn't know what he was doing. 

He approached his ever growing cold lover like he had just seen him or the redness on his cheeks or the weird position he was in. It had nothing to do with heat then, Oliver though after he placed a kiss on his cold, sweaty forehead as his delicate hands caressed the other man's messy mane. He knew the sooner he did what needed to be done, the sooner he would be happy in the arms of his lover. Oliver was scared. He hoped it wouldn't hurt but upon such a thought he felt a wave of guilt rushing toward him. How could he think of such a selfish notion? His love died in pain and agony because of him, was he afraid of some tiny colorful pills? They are like candy, he consoled himself. Like the ones I love so very much. Like the ones I make even Louis eat sometimes even though he doesn't love. Yes I am going to do it. He fidgeted through his jacket's pocket, everything was ready. But that didn't stop the man's shaking. He didn't know why he was shaking. He was simply more aware of the fact that Louis was dead and he was alive and his only way out of this 'small inconvenience' was killing himself. Was he right? Was he wrong? He simply didn't know. But he knew he would do that if he could take back time. After a few minutes of staring at his cold lover whose once pale, perfect skin covered in red-purple patches and the pills, he swallowed them without water. As many as he could. After a point he got up and reached for the wine Louis was drinking before his death to swallow the rest. How blessed he was that the last thing he drank was something touched by his lover's gracious lips. He smiled like he was in a dream as he lay down next to his lover.

He was cold, so cold. Was it how he was going to be quite soon? He shut his blue eyes, hoping the next time he opened them, the first thing he saw would be Louis. He wasn't sure if an afterlife existed in fact, Louis used to have quite convincing counter arguments against such a notion. He hoped his boyfriend was mistaken for once as he tried to ignore the awful headache and the burn in his stomach, throat, insides basically. A flame that radiated from his stomach to his esophagus and to the most important place in his body, his fast beating heart. Oliver tried to endure the pain by hugging the dead man even tighter. It was going to end soon, it was all for the owner of his heart. And it did and eventually. The flight to Dinard left with two empty seats.

 


End file.
